Dialogues of the Gods (12.1-12.2)

May I have a word with Zeus, Hermes?

Impossible, Poseidon.

Just tell him I’m here.

Don’t bother us, I tell you. It’s not convenient. You can’t see him just now.

He’s not with Hera, is he?

No, it’s something quite different.

I know what you mean. He’s got Ganymede in there.

No, it’s not that either. He’s poorly.

How come, Hermes? That’s surprising.

I’m ashamed to tell you; it’s so awful.

There’s nothing wrong with telling Uncle Poseidon.

He’s just had a baby, uncle.

Nonsense. How could he? Who’s the father? Was he a man-woman, then, without us knowing? His belly didn’t show he was pregnant.

True enough; the child wasn’t there.

Oh, I’ve got it. He produced it out of his head again, just as he did Athena. [*] He’s got a prolific head.

No, it was from his thigh that Semele’s child [*] came.

Bravo! He’s a fine one for you. Gets pregnant from head to toe. Breeds all over his body. But who is Semele?

She’s from Thebes—one of Cadmus’ daughters. He got her into trouble.

And then had the baby himself, instead of her?

Exactly, even if you do think it odd. The fact is that Hera—you know how jealous she is—talked Semele into persuading Zeus to visit her complete with thunder and lightning. He agreed, and came with his thunderbolt too; the roof caught fire, and Semele was burnt up, and he told me to cut open her womb, and bring him the half-formed seven-month child. When I did so, he cut a slit in his own thigh, and slipped it in to finish its growth there; now, two months later, he’s brought it into the world, and he’s ill from the birth-pains.

Then, where’s the baby now?

I took him to Nysa, and gave him to the Nymphs to bring up. His name is Dionysus.

Is my brother, then, both father and mother of Dionysus?

So it seems. But I’ll be off now to bring him water for his wound, and give him the other attentions usual after a confinement.